Story:Star Trek: Lexington
| status = 2365 (Active) | yard = Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards, Mars | laid = | launched = 2365 (Active) | comm = | decomm = | length = 442.23 meters | beam = 318.11 meters | draft = | decks = | mass = 3,309,000 metric tonnes | prop = | speed = Warp 9.6 | crew = 750 officers and crew; 130 visiting personnel; 9,800 personal evacuation limit | armament = Eight type-10 phaser emitters; two quantum torpedo launchers | defenses = Deflector shields | shuttle = | image2 = Stage9 generations bridge by phaeton99 dcqaagg-pre.jpg | caption2 =Bridge Refit (2371) | image3 = | image4 = }} USS [https://memory-gamma.fandom.com/wiki/USS_Lexington,_Nebula-class Lexington] Crew * Captain Wil Thoms, Commanding Officer, Human * Commander Niko Baagh, Executive Officer, Caitian * Lieutenant Otos E'Kim, Chief of Security, Ferengi * Lieutenant Eleutherio, Chief Engineer, Liberated Borg * Doctor Elizabeth Lense, Chief Medical Officer, Human * Lieutenant Allan Hood, Chief Science Officer, Human * Falora, Junior-Grade Ensign, Science Officer, Vulcan * D'Tan, Ensign, Science Officer, Romulan {[PAGENAME}} Chief Science Officer Allan Hood's Personal Logs Locations Bryma * Colony of Cardassians living in desperate poverty, both on the planet's surface and below through a network of tunnels, struggling to meet even their basic needs, surviving on algaculture - farming a species of native algae, since the Founders' attack, to address food security and malnutrition. On the surface, the algaculture sustains the colony with nutrition and energy, creating hydrogen through algae fuel, while colonists moved underground after planet's atmosphere was damaged as a result of the attack. During the war, it was the location of a weapons depot, according to Cardassian sources. Dorvan V * Home to a colony of Native Americans from Earth, featuring a Habak. The colonists renounced their Federation citizenship and agreed to be governed by the Cardassian government in 2370. The planet's features include at least one continent, as well as mountains and rivers similar to ancient North America. Solosos III * Though the planet is now uninhabitable to Humans for the next fifty years, Cardassian refugees settled the planet after being displaced from Veloz Prime and Quatal Prime. Planet inhospitable due to the USS Defiant firing two quantum torpedoes of trilithium resin into the atmosphere in 2373. **Environmental suit required for protection and life support due to inhospitable environment. Hedrikspool Province, Bajor – Nature Preserve, Northern Coast * Stardate: 58758.2; October 4, 2381, Time: 17:49:55 Allan Hood burst into his family’s tent, embracing his wife, Samantha-Josephine, with a hug and kissed her. The Hoods have been camping on the beach, in a makeshift home of Bajoran palm branches and bamboo poles, for the last three days ago. Their temporary home was surrounded by Bajoran lilacs, and other native flowers, on a bed of salam grass. “It’s official,” Hood exclaimed, “we’re transferring to the USS Lexington.” Sami-Jo laughed at the revealed excitement, hugged and kissed him back amidst the sound of Bajor’s green-tinted waves crashing in the distance. “Finally, we’re getting away from Cardassia,” Hood pointed out, pouring himself a cup of sweetened Jumja tea, “I’ll get to do some real science, in the final frontier. No more scanning and cleansing antimatter radiation, no more hazardous conditions, and no more dodging degenerative health problems!” Since December of 2375, after the Battle of Cardassia, Hood had been assigned to Cardassia Prime for humanitarian aid after planet’s massive devastation of infrastructure, death of eight hundred million civilians, and over seven million troops. His temporary duty assignment was to help cleanse excess antimatter radiation from the planet’s surface and the atmosphere, being extremely hazardous to humanoid life. Hood decided to join Starfleet to be part of Starfleet’s effort of exploration of “strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations” in 2370, three years before the Dominion War began. Little did he know he would serve in the last two years of the Dominion War, and be part of the Restoration of Cardassia, for six years. Finally, Hood’s reason for joining Starfleet was being realized. Though he majored in Astrophysics, with focus on Temporal, Quantum and Relativistic Mechanics, Warp Field Theory, Exoarchaeology and Radiobiology, Starfleet zeroed-in on his Radiobiology classes and experience, assigning him the Restoration project after the war. “And, I’m officially promoted to Lieutenant, the Lexington's Chief Science Officer,” Hood reminded himself, telling his wife, through another wave of euphoria. Hood had wanted to be a CSO since joining the Academy. Hood’s daughters came running up to see what the commotion was about. “Daddy, you’re home!” squealed Gracie, Hood’s four-year-old, curly blonde, blue-eyed daughter, when she saw him. He didn’t know how many years left he had of her being excited to see him after work, but he intended to soak up every minute of the time he had left. Donna, Hood’s one-year-old, curly strawberry blonde, amber-eyed daughter, came running up on not-so-sure-footing, inspired by her big sister’s expression of delight. While Hood hugged, kissed, and played with both girls, Sami-Jo reflected on their last six years living on Deep Space Nine while Allan was stationed on Cardassia. Sami-Jo had to wait for windows of permission and shore leave to see her newly wedded husband with their children. Now, she’ll get to live with him permanently while he’s stationed on the Lexington. Hood explained that they need to pack everything from their quarters and move onto the Lexington; they’ll be leaving in three days, taking relief supplies to several Cardassian Colony worlds. “After that,” Hood finished, “we’ll be heading out into the Alpha Quadrant, into uncharted space.” Sami-Jo finally quit smiling and became pensive. When they decided to have children on the space station, it was relatively secure. They have been taking their proximity to Bajor for granted, camping on the surface, the Bajoran culture influencing their own. They always cherished that the substantial agricultural activities, flora and fauna, in the northern peninsula, reminded them of their home in Calusa, Florida on Earth. Though there were risks involved being in Starfleet, the reality of the additional potential risks and dangers began to dawn. Hood must have come to the same conclusion; he slowly rose from his children, keeping eye contact with his wife, and walked over to her, grasping her hands. “Starfleet’s been exploring uncharted territory for centuries,” Hood soothed, “this is the whole reason why we all came out here. We’ve made it this far. This is what we’ve been waiting for.” “I’m worried about the babies, Allan,” Sami-Jo admitted while the wind blew gently through makeshift shelter, “it’s so dangerous.” “I know,” Allan began, “I won’t be able to go that far away without you and the girls. I want you by my side; I need all of you in my life, through whatever happens, we’ll be together.” Allan and Sami-Jo silently hugged as the girls played in the glow of the firelight. Habitat Ring, Deep Space Nine – Hoods’ Quarters * Stardate: 58765.3; October 7, 2381, Time: 08:01:40 Allan Hood removed his junior-grade pip and replaced it with the full lieutenant pip, checking the mirror, making sure everything was aligned correctly. He adjusted his uniform and straightened his combadge. “I haven’t seen you pay so much attention to your uniform since you were at the Academy,” Sami-Jo commented, looking over his shoulder. “Do you think they’ll change their mind if you’re uniform is precise?” “I’m the Chief Science Officer, now,” Allan remarked, defending himself. “I have to set an example for the junior officers and I want to meet with the captain after we get to the Lexington. You’re right, though; I haven’t felt this nervous and excited since the Academy.” Of course, Hood was not counting the Dominion War in his comparison; he did his best to ignore the memories and focus on a routine life. But, it seemed, the more he pushed away those memories and the deeper he buried them, the more likely they would resurface. Hood happened to look up in time to see Donna climbing their luggage on the anti-grav sled. He ran over and grabbed her just as she was beginning to stand up and bounce. “We’re not stopping by sickbay before we’re leaving, Donna,” he said. “We’re just trying to get out of here in one piece.” Allan reached up and grabbed the last of their personal items: their family’s longsword, the traditional first item to be hung up and the last to be taken down. An ancestor of Allan’s, the patriarch of the Hood family between 1630 and 1635, fought in the Swedish Intervention during the Thirty Years’ War, against the Holy Roman Empire. It has been passed down, from first born to first born, for over 700 years. Seeing the sword hanging in his great-grandparents’ house, grandparents’ house, and his own house growing up, reminded him of his family's tradition of passing on ancient European martial arts and swordsmanship. While at the Academy, Allan earned his concealed weapon license for a retractable cutlass, granting him permission to carry it at all times, which he kept in a sheath in the small of his back. Allan removed the plaque, inscribed with the family’s history, and slung the family’s blade over his shoulder, turned around and picked up Donna. Sami-Jo activated the anti-grav, prompting it to effortlessly hover above the deckplating, and glided it through their doors. Gracie had been running circles around their empty quarters, giggling, never seeing so much room before. “How does it float?” Gracie asked as they walked the corridors. “It’s really complicated to explain, but, it’s like a hovercraft,” her father began, “but, it uses graviton inverter circuits, transfer coils, and a flow capacitor to produce a strong antigraviton field.” “What’s an anty-gravyton?” Gracie further probed, holding her father’s hand as they maneuvered through the crowded corridors. “It’s a tiny elementary particle that transmits gravitational force,” Allan attempted to explain. “Being massless and traveling at the speed of light, its discovery united quantum theory with gravity.” “Oh, okay,” Gracie said. Allan just shrugged at Sami-Jo about Gracie’s impossible understanding of gravitons. She had an amazing curiosity for her age and pulled in vocabulary like a black hole. It was hard to tell how much of their conversation she understood. The Hood family passed for the last time through the dark corridors of Deep Space Nine. The departure was hard for Allan and Sami-Jo, especially for Sami-Jo; she spent so much time on DS9 as a permanent resident, taking the girls to play on Bajor. They headed for one of the six large docking pylons, extending from the main docking ring. They walked to the end of pylon to find the port that connected to the Sovereign class ship. Arriving on USS Lexington The change in corridors was dramatic; they instantly went from the dark, Cardassian architecture to the clean lines of Starfleet. The corridors were brighter, more spacious, and appealed to their human senses. Upon stepping across the Lexington’s threshold, Hood tapped his combadge. "This is Chief Science Officer Allan Hood reporting arrival," he said. "Welcome aboard Lieutenant Hood," the computer responded back. "Your arrival has been logged." The Hoods made their way to Deck 7 and found their new quarters, after asking the computer for directions. Being a senior officer, their quarters were located on the outer rim of the saucer section, unlike their quarters on DS9 with no windows. As the doors opened, the family entered in, slowly, and gave themselves a tour. The living area was to the right with dining to the left. As they passed through, they entered their bedroom with the babies’ room to the right. All in all, the living space was more than they were accustomed. After unpacking, Hood hung up their blade. “It’s official,” he said, “we’re finally home.” First Day Stardate: 58776.13; Sunday, October 11, 2381, Time: 06:53:55 Hood was happy to be on the alpha-shift already, though he hated mornings; at least he did not have to adjust to a new schedule. After Lieutenant Hood finished his log, he turned for one last check on his sleeping daughters: his four-year-old Gracie and one-year-old Donna. Both, sound asleep, for the time being. Sammie-Jo, exhausted from unpacking and taking care of the children, lay fast asleep on the bed adjacent to Gracie with Donna just within reaching distance. Hood kissed all three girls, adjusted his uniform one last time, and headed for the bridge. Gracie had grown comfortable seeing her father leave so often, but, Donna, was another story. No matter how many times he left, she always acted like it was the first time. While they lived on Deep Space Nine, Donna would cry and reach for him, from her mother’s arms, as the doors hissed closed. “At least I don’t have to leave them on DS9 while I head back to Cardassia, being gone for weeks at a time,” Hood thought to himself, walking through crewmen, officers, couples and families still moving in their belongings. Hood walked the corridors, feeling pretty confident in being early and finally earning his way to his first assignment aboard the Lexington. Hood felt like it was his first day at the Academy all over again. “We’re just offering humanitarian aid,” Hood told himself as he greeted his new crew members, too excitedly. “Nothing to worry about; everything’s going to be fine.” Hood could see the science labs just past the turbolift and decided to have a peek. He approached the multipurpose lab, first. The doors opened to a darkened room. “Computer, lights,” Hood ordered. The lights flashed on revealing the state-of-the-art science labs. The lab had workstations focusing on everything from stellar cartography, astrometrics, and warp-field theory, to quantum mechanics, temporal mechanics, and holographic research. Hood felt the immediate temptation to run from lab to lab, testing the capability and limitations of the equipment. “This is where I belong,” Hood said to himself, “not on radiation soaked Cardassia, away from my family, but, on this ship, on this mission.” Hood retreated quickly back to the corridor before he ended up spending the day in the depths of observation and experimentation, formulation and testing of hypotheses, instead of on his own personal mission: reporting for duty. When the turbolift opened, a gold collared Ferengi lieutenant, stood before him. “Bridge,” Hood stated as he entered the turbolift, nodding to the Ferengi. “I’m Allan Hood, Chief Science Officer,” Hood said after a moment in the turbolift, extending his hand. “Otos E'Kim,” E'Kim replied. “That’s where I’m going, too. I’m Chief of Security,” he said proudly. Hood, being of a shorter stature himself, for a human, could not help but notice E'Kim being a head shorter than him. “I know what you’re thinking,” E'Kim said through sharpened teeth. “How can a Ferengi be a security officer in Starfleet, especially the Chief? It’s okay, I understand. At least you didn’t come out and ask me.” “Sometimes, the only thing more dangerous than a question is an answer,” Hood stated. “Rule of Acquisition: #208.” Both lieutenants laughed at each other’s perceived contradictoriness. Hood knew for a Ferengi to earn a security position, he had to be twice, maybe three times better, than everyone who applied. He must have had to prove himself over and over again. Hood then made the mental note to not get on his bad side. *** Hood and E'Kim stepped from the turbolift and parted. E'Kim walked straight across and behind the captain’s chair to the tactical station. Hood followed, turning left and stepping onto the raised deck of the bridge. The duel station was occupied by only one officer while the stand-alone terminal stood crewed by a junior grade officer. Hood walked behind ops and the helm, not being able to resist glancing over the shoulders of the junior officers sitting at their consoles. He did everything he could to keep his excitement in check in regards to going “...where no one has gone before.” “Good morning, Ensign,” Hood greeted a Vulcan science officer, sitting near his terminal. “How are you this morning?” “You are 19 minutes early, sir,” the ensign responded with a raised eyebrow, without looking at a chronometer, still facing her screen. “As for this morning, it is neither ‘good’ nor its implied alternative, ‘bad.’” “That’s very absolute of you, Ensign,” Hood responded jokingly. “I just meant it as a greeting, just being friendly.” “I know and fully understand your usage of the greeting, sir,” the ensign responded. “I am simply pointing out that one cannot state the unknown condition of ‘morning’ as perceived without adding personal feelings, prejudices, or interpretations to distort one’s perception.” “You learn not to say ‘good morning…’” a human gold-collared officer joked as he approached. “I’m Eleutherio, Chief Engineer,” he said as he extended his hand. From the angle where they stood in relation to each other, Hood did not notice his cybernetic right-side of his face, immediately. Hood almost hesitated in shaking his hand, but, instead, pushed his prejudice aside. Hearing stories about the Borg from other officers, and the Battle of Wolf 359 from his father, had taken its toll. Hood pushed the stories of the Borg from his mind. His father, both traumatized and unforgiving of the Borg, resigned from Starfleet after “Locutus was given command of a starship, again.” It was his father's opinion that Captain Picard be court-martialed and thrown out of Starfleet “Don’t mind her,” Eleutherio joked, “Ensign Falora is only making conversation. Good morning, Lieutenant.” “Indeed, sir,” prompting the young Vulcan to turn slightly with her eyebrow raised, again. “Good morning, Mr. Eleutherio,” After the Chief Engineer turned back to his bridge station, Hood stepped back over to the dual science station and took his seat to the left of the ensign, at the main terminal. He quickly adjusted the station to display the science data to his liking and stored the custom presentation to the system. Hood turned over his left shoulder, noticing the first officer, floating with feline grace, to the captain’s ready room. Commander Niko Baagh, a large, dark fur covered Caitian, waited patiently to be let inside. “I hear he has the sense of humor of a Vulcan,” Ensign D'Tan joked as he sat to the right of the Vulcan, “no offense, ma’am.” Though Baagh was all the way on the other side of the bridge, Baagh's ear twitched at the comment. “Why would I be offended, Ensign?” Falora asked without looking from her terminal, still focused on her diagnostic, “You believe your comment was displeasing or affronting? Why would you make a comment that may have insulted me or caused moral outrage?” "Not to make matters worse, Ensign," Hood began, "but, I'm sure the commander heard your comment. I hope you have an alibi handy." “No, no, I only meant that…” D'Tan began, looking to Hood for support and understanding before being interrupted by the Vulcan. “Vulcans do not have a sense of humor,” she stated flatly. “Humor is a difficult concept; it is not logical.” D'Tan turned to Falora and back to Hood. “Was that a joke?” D'Tan mouthed, nonverbally, to Hood. “Mr. D'Tan, run a level five diagnostic on our sensors,” the chief science officer said, “I don’t want us being caught off guard out there.” Hood chose a level five diagnostic, being the most automated determination of system performance to identify any potential malfunctions. “Miss Falora, I’d like a level five diagnostic done on our deflector shield, just in case.” Hood tapped his combadge and gave various science officers lists of systems to run similar diagnostics. “Sir, if I may ask?” questioned Ensign Falora. “Of course.” Falora turned back to her station. She began running her diagnostic with ease while answering the science chief’s question. Multitasking a conversation while running a level five diagnostic on the deflector shields would be distracting for other species. “Is it logical to run diagnostics on our key systems when they have already been tested by the original engineers and scientists before leaving spacedock?” asked the ensign. “Think of it as a ‘go/no go poll.’” “Sir?” “A launch status check. It was known as a “go/no go poll, in practice at the beginning of early spaceflight missions in the mid-twentieth century. The original flight controllers monitored various systems for operation and readiness status before a launch could proceed.” “Presently, the ‘conn,’ our flight control station, combines the roles of both the navigator and helmsman,” Falora supplied. “This is our maiden voyage as a crew together, beginning our journey into uncharted territory,” Hood began, “our closest starbase will be Deep Space Nine. We may not have too many places to pull-over.” Falora nodded accepting his logic, yet, raised at eyebrow, questioning again. “Pull-over?” “It’s an intransitive verb meaning to steer one’s vehicle to the side of the road,” Hood explained, “it’s an old term, but we still use it while driving our hovercars, similar to desert fliers on Vulcan. I’m guessing you didn’t attend the Academy on Earth?” “Correct, Lieutenant,” Falora said, “though we did not have a need for hovercars or desert fliers on Relva VII, which is where I attended the Academy.” As predicted, Commander Baagh walked directly toward the science trio's station, upon existing the captain's ready-room. "You believe I do not have a sense of humor?" Baagh asked, towering over the science officers. “Yes, sir…I mean, no, sir…” D'Tan struggled as if standing before a predator, “I didn’t mean any disrespect, sir; I bet you have a great sense of humor, sir. People probably just figured…” “Ensign…” Hood interjected, shaking his head toward the fraught science officer. Commander Niko Baagh, stood two or three heads higher than the Romulan, with piercing, unblinking, elliptical, yellow eyes, with fangs, now visible up-close, was quite an intimidating sight. “I apologize, sir,” D'Tan said, gaining his footing, again. "I hope you will refrain from disrespecting your superior officers in the future," Commander Baagh said. “I guarantee it won’t happen, again, Commander,” Hood nodded, stifling back a smile, stepping in, giving a quick glance to his subordinate. “Though it is no excuse, I believe he’s just excited to meet you, sir, and did not handle it well.” “Mr. D'Tan seems to often derive his opinions based on widely disseminated sentiments, with no discernible source, quite often,” Falora began, glancing at D'Tan. “His…statements have been known to not carry any authority for their truth.” After Commander Niko Baagh stepped away, Hood put his hand on D'Tan's shoulder, “you sure know how to make a first impression.” “Thanks, sir,” D'Tan said sheepishly. “As for you, Ensign Falora,” Hood began with a slight edge to his voice, “if we find a team member being disciplined, I’d appreciate it if you kept your opinion of observations about a team member’s past behavior to yourself, unless he/she is violating Starfleet regulations or you are directly asked for your input. “Do not throw anyone, especially your colleagues, under the bus; it doesn’t help us in the long run. People who throw teammates under the bus will not be trusted by their teammates and will invariably find themselves under the bus, someday, themselves. Is that understood, Ensign?” “‘Thrown under the bus,’ Lieutenant?” Falora asked sincerely. “It’s another an idiomatic phrase,” Hood explained, “you might give the impression to your team that you’ll betray a friend or ally for selfish reasons.” “Do you mean that it appears as a self-defensive disavowal of a friendly relationship after the relation becomes controversial?” Falora asked to clarify. “Yes, exactly, Ensign.” “Then, yes, sir, I understand,” Falora clarified. “I will not…‘throw’ anyone else…‘under the bus.’” “Thank you, Ensign.” “Mr. D'Tan, I apologize for…” Falora looked quickly to Hood from D'Tan, then back again, “…throwing you under the bus. In the future, I will report your inappropriate behavior to our superiors next time you ever violate Starfleet regulations or if I am directly asked for my input on your behavior.” “Thanks, Ensign,” D'Tan responded, “I think.” A moment after Falora and Hood resumed their duties, D'Tan leaned over to Hood. “Was she joking, again?” Orion Attack As the Lexington made its way to Bryma, it suddenly shuttered violently. Red alert blared out, knocking the Lexington out of warp. Captain Thoms yelled out orders while Commander Baagh roared out status reports. Two Orion ships decloaked, hammering the Lexington. “Direct hit!” yelled a panicked junior-grade helmsmen through the smoked filled bridge. Hood felt the same panic, though masking it behind experience. The ship rocked again. Hood gripped the science chair’s arms harder. Even with the safety harness, he felt as if he could be tossed straight from his seat. How is Gracie and Donna? How is Sami-Jo? “We lost our lower phaser array!” shouted a coughing Lieutenant E'Kim, lights flickering on the consoles behind him. "Take us under them!" roared Commander Baagh. “The Orions’ shields run at a significantly lower energy frequency than ours, sir,” Hood addressed the captain, after doing a quick scan of the Orion ship. “Confirmed, sir,” Ensign Falora chimed after completing her calculation and turning in her chair to face the captain. “After obtaining their firing frequency, we will be able to determine the necessary deviation to ascertain the proper shield frequency to reduce the efficiency of their disruptors. But, it'll take time to... "Adjust phasers for a 60 percent reduction rate in shield frequency as compared to ours," Captain Thoms interrupted, shouting over his shoulder to E'Kim. “The effective percentage in reduction rate yet remains to be seen, sir, considering we have not yet collected the necessary firing data from the Orions' weapons,” Falora stated matter-of-factly, slightly turning her chair to address the captain, directly. Hood hoped Falora's Vulcanness would not be...misunderstood. How did Captain Thoms know those stats off the top of his head? Hood reminded himself to ask captain after the cosmic dust settled. As Lieutenant E'Kim made the adjustments and fired, again, Lieutenant Eleutherio stepped from his station to help a fallen junior officer as the Environmental station exploded in sparks. As the smoke cleared, Hood turned to see Eleutherio was unconscious on the deck behind him; the surprise attack caught everyone unaware. Hood risked unfastening his harness, crawling over and finding Eleutherio’s pulse. He noticed half a dozen tiny mechanical arms coming from his Borg implants, making repairs to various areas of his body around each corresponding implant. As Hood moved back to reclaim his seat and harness, the ship shifted under his feet among sparks and smoke. Hood landed unconscious on the deck near Eleutherio. Gracie attempted to skip her rock across the Hickpochee River near the old Xindi Incident Memorial, but it splashed unsuccessfully at the shore instead. “I think she’s starting to get it, Al,” Sami-Jo laughed, mocking her husband from the tree overlooking the ancient river oxbow, balancing Baby Donna, their one-year-old, on her knee. “You laugh now, but I bet she’ll have it figured out before you,” Allan half-joked back to her. “Hold it like this, baby,” Hood instructed his daughter while guiding her hand. After slamming the smooth stone back against the shore with a loud splash the second time, Gracie turned her face to her father and said in her sweet four-year-old voice, “Lieutenant, are you injured? “Gracie?” Hood asked toward his recovering science officer, using the console to support himself as the ship tilted. “Lieutenant Hood?” asked Ensign Falora. “Falora! Get to sickbay and help Doctor Lense!” Hood shouted over the chaos. The Vulcan stood up emotionless and walked across the shuttering bridge as if it was a routine. *** Ensign Falora walked purposely through the corridor to sickbay from the turbolift. Occasionally, bumping against other crew members, taking turns catching each other, as the ship shook underfoot. She knew, without the inertial dampeners, they'd all have been instantly dashed against the bulkhead. The psycho-suppression system responsible for the Vulcan suppression of emotions, located in the mesiofrontal cortex, worked better at stabilizing her emotions than the ship's dampeners did at stabilizing the crew, and Falora was heavily relying on it. People lay injured in the corridor on the way to the bridge and her logical mindset guided her to reach sickbay, in spite of the humanoid obstacles that lay before her. As she stepped over and around injured crew members, some reached out to her. She ignored them; logically, there were too many for her to help and there may be those in a more critical condition. The logical thing to do would be to receive orders directly from Doctor Lense, himself. Any of these undisciplined humanoids would have stopped and saw to their injuries, but not Falora; she knew better. Finally, Falora reached sickbay, the door being held open by an unconscious crew member's leg. Falora ducked a hose, which threatened to burn off her pointed ears, as she stepped over the crew member's leg and threshold to sickbay. "Do you need assistance, Doctor Lense?" *** Hood’s eyes finally began burning. He heard someone attempting to put out an electrical fire when the console behind the person erupted in sparks and fire, swallowing his attempt and his soul. Hood risked called out to Commander Baagh’s command chair. We need something old. “May I suggest the Picard Maneuver, sir?” Hood shouted, “we’d throw them off by giving them a surprise attack of our own. Even the score a little.” Captain Thoms ordered the attack pattern and took the helm after seeing the helmsman frozen in fear. The Lexington shot into high warp directly in front of the closest Orion ship, making the Lexington appear, to the Orions' sensors, to be in two places at once. The Orions targeted and fired on the sensor ghost of the Lexington. Captain Thoms ordered Lieutenant E'Kim to open fire as soon as they dropped out of warp. The Orions had no time to evade the attack before being hit with phasers and quantum torpedoes. The first Orion ship was destroyed. The explosion rocked the second Orion ship, spinning its disruptor turrets in their direction, giving them a clear shot. The Ferengi officer fired, again, destroying their weapons and continually laying down heavy fire. As the Lexington drifted a moment, the Orions leveled their ship and warped away. *** By the time the combatants left, medical personnel made it to the bridge. Hood ran over to Chief Engineer Eleutherio, watching again as those tiny mechanical arms, from his Eleutherio’s Borg implants, making repairs to various areas of his body around each corresponding implant. As the med team made their way over to them, Eleutherio abruptly sat up. “What did I miss?” Eleutherio asked. “We were attacked by two Orion ships, but it’s over. What happened to you?” asked Hood. “He seems to have suffered a concussion,” said the medic while consulting his medical tricorder, waving the external sensor over his implants. “It appears your condition has been repaired by your implants. Though you probably won’t experience any symptoms, I still would like you to rest in your quarters for twenty-four hours. Looks as if you’ve had some intracranial hemorrhage, but your implants repaired it. Don’t be surprised if we call you down to sickbay anyway to check out those implants. “Report to sickbay if vomiting, a worsening headache, dizziness, double vision, or slurred speech occurs. You are now officially relieved of duty for twenty four hours. Please report to your quarters. “Lieutenant Hood, please check in on Lieutenant Eleutherio from time to time in his quarters and make sure he’s recovering and not experiencing any symptoms he might miss.” With that, the medic patted Eleutherio on the shoulder and moved on to his next patient. “That’s amazing how your implants healed you so quickly,” Hood exclaimed, “we got to check those out at the lab. I’d love to have a look at them.” “I rather not, Lieutenant,” Eleutherio said with a chuckle, “my implants have been researched and documented shortly after my liberation from the Borg. I rather not go through any of that, again. Before you ask, I have no memory of being abducted, rescued, or life as a drone. I remember the attack and then waking up years later in a medical facility with these implants.” “You need help getting to your quarters?” Hood asked, bracing his arms and raising him to his feet. “I should be fine, thank you,” Eleutherio responded. Hood was careful to watch him walk without mishap to the turbolift. He wondered how Falora was handling her newfound duties as a medic. *** After following Doctor Lense's orders, Ensign Falora emotionlessly stepped over and around injured crewmembers, again, which were reaching out to her, only for her to ignore them. She logically and indifferently followed the doctor's request. Falora acknowledged to herself the needs of everyone she saw and committed them to memory, with the impassivity that only a Vulcan mind would subject itself to. When Falora finished consulting with her tricorder, she logically assessed which crew members needed the most help and began making the adjustments to her hyposprays, digging into the medkit slung over her right shoulder. *** “Donna and I are fine, Al,” Sami-Jo said anxiously, “I'm trying to get to Gracie; the comm's down and I haven't been contacted by the school. I'm with a few parents, trying to...” “Hood to Preschool Class B,” Hood called, cutting off the communication with his wife, “Preschool Class B, respond. Hood to Preschool Class B...Preschool Class B, respond.” Hood called out to Commander Baagh, accidentally letting the apprehension slip into his voice. “Commander Baagh, do you have a status report on the classrooms?” Hood gripped his chair, restraining himself from bolting toward the turbolift. "There is no response," Baagh growled through clenched teeth, "you are relieved to..." Hood was running across the bridge at the commander's initial response. *** Before dinner, Allan offered the traditional blessing passed on in his family since the Xindi Incident of 2153, after changing out of his uniform to civilian clothes. "First, let us reflect on our own work and the effort of those who brought us this food, from the system designers, to the scientists, to the engineers. Second, let us be aware of the quality of our deeds as we receive this meal of the Earth. Third, what is most essential is the practice of mindfulness, which helps us to transcend greed, anger and delusion, to better ourselves and our way of life. Fourth, we appreciate this food which sustains the good health of our body and mind. Fifth, in order to continue our practice for all beings we accept this offering. “But, Daddy, this is from the replicator; it’s not from Earth. Why don’t we mention the replicator that really created it?” asked Grace after her first bite of corn. “That’s a good question, with a long answer,” began Allan. “Oh, no…” Gracie responded, catching a smile and a headshake from her mom. “The carbon, nitrogen and oxygen atoms in our bodies, the Earth, the ship, and what’s used in the replicator, all came from stars that existed a long time ago, it’s all the same. We’re all made from the same atoms produced in every star; we're all made of stardust. Through the replicator, it’s based on food designs from Earth, the very food that sustains our lives, and the lives of our ancestors. They all contain the same stardust.” “‘We are a way for the universe to know itself,” Allan quoted Carl Sagan. “Some part of our being knows this is where we came from. We long to return. And we can, because the cosmos is also within us.’” '' ''Gracie thought about it for a moment. “So, shouldn’t we say, ‘stardust’ instead?” “That’s a good point. How’d you get so smart?” “I get it from mommy,” Gracie replied honestly. The Hood family started eating their replicated steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn and bread with red wine synthehol. '' ''Green beans and corn being Grace’s favorite, though she wouldn’t eat her green beans. “Why do you keep asking for green beans and not eat them?” asked Gracie’s father. She had eaten in this fashion since she was a baby. “It makes the corn taste better, but they’re not that good,” Gracie admitted with emphasis on the ‘that.’ *** Hood ran up, pressing through the crowd of parents standing and searching for their children at the far end of the corridor to the classrooms. He relieved the security officers from restraining his wife, taking over himself. He tried reassuring her that Gracie probably has some smoke inhalation, but that’s it, not seeing any obvious signs of trauma on the surface, at least. Baby Donna looked scared in her mother's arms, looking at the crowd and smelling the smoke. Through the smoke and heat, Lieutenant E'Kim stepped through like a ghost, carrying Gracie in his arms, handing her into Hood's arms. While holding them all, Hood reached out with his hand to E'Kim to shake his. "Thank you very much for risking your life for my little girl," Hood said as they headed toward sickbay together, "we're forever in your debt." *** In sickbay, Allan Hood looked over at an avian crewman with envy. A simple hypospray his, or hers, headache was gone. Gracie's coughing and nausea continued, with some vomiting. She kept slipping out of consciousness. In her waking hours, she was confused about where she was, sometimes thinking they were in their quarters and other times back on Deep Space Nine. Sami-Jo took Donna back to their quarters due to all the excitement, not wanting to leave her side. With Hood off duty, he switched watches with his wife. “Mr. Hood, Gracie's suffering from burns to the nose, mouth and face,” began the nurse, “she's having difficulty breathing and has some carbonaceous sputum, burned saliva. We have her on a mechanical ventilator. We're using humidified oxygen, bronchodilators, suction, and chest physiotherapy. We're starting inhalation therapy with nebulized heparin and acetylcysteine. Due to the carbon monoxide we've detected, it's complicating her condition. We've administered supplemental oxygen at a fraction of inspired oxygen. Next, we'll use hyperbaric oxygen therapy and keep her overnight for evaluation. She should be fine by tomorrow.” “Thank you, nurse,” Hood responded, striving to keep his emotions in check while hearing both the diagnosis and prognosis. Hood comforted himself with the knowledge that he was surrounded by state-of-the-art, 24th century technology. Hundreds of years ago, Gracie would have been more danger and in the hospital for weeks. After the nurse stepped away, the father, and chief science officer aspects, in him combined and he began his own scans with a nearby medical tricorder, verifying the nurse's findings. “You'll be all better soon, Gracie,” Hood whispered quietly.Category:Allan Hood Category:USS Lexington Category:Camping Category:Hedrikspool Province Category:Bajor Category:Science officers Category:Starfleet sciences personnel Category:Humans